Remembered Joy
by thegr8fatsby
Summary: Tom x Sybil (as if anything else matters). Tom's life with Sybbie. Sticking to canon somewhat (although the ways things have turned out have ensured I'll never feel happiness again) with flashbacks and some AU in the form of dreams. I haven't written any ff since middle school so please be kind, just going to mess around and see where this goes.
1. Chapter 1

1921

 _It started the same way it always did. It was a beautiful summer's day as they pushed the pram down the street away from their flat and towards the park. It was odd no one was around, as the city always seemed to be bustling with people, especially compared to Downton, but neither one of them noticed._

 _"I never imagined my life would be this way," she said with a light, earnest smile._

 _"Neither did I." And it was true._

 _"It's better than I ever could have dreamed, truly it is. The money, the title, the parties and expectations...none of it means anything to me. I love my family dearly but I could never go back to living that way after experiencing this world, the real world."_

 _Her words, her presence...everything about her blew him away. It was in the simple, beautiful moments like these he so often felt himself at a loss of words. He admired her simple periwinkle-blue frock and the effortless elegance and confidence of her stride as she pushed the carriage. They reached the park with its lush, beautiful green grass and came to a stop as he moved towards her and put his hand on her cheek._

 _"I thank God everyday for you. For both of you. Despite all the hardships, I'm certain I'm the luckiest man alive." They smiled warmly at each other before one, or both, of them leaned in for a kiss. Each kiss, no matter the occasion, was as loving as the last and he had no doubt it would feel that way forever. She reached into the pram and took their baby into her arms, a sight that, despite the short amount of time it'd been happening, never failed to leave a slight lump in his throat. He savored the sight silently until she suddenly handed their daughter over to him._

 _"So what all do you want to do today, love?" She smiled at him weakly._

 _"We can just lie back and watch the stars."_

 _In that moment, everything began to slow until it came to a stop._

 _In that moment, that wretched moment, he remembered what was to come next._

 _In that moment, he screamed at the top of his lungs and found it only created more silence. He tried to keep that fleeting moment frozen so he could do something, anything, to freeze it in time. As the scene slowly began to move again, he quickly placed the baby, that poor, poor baby, back into the stroller. He lurched forwards towards his struggling wife only to find an invisible barrier keeping them apart._

 _"My head!" she screamed, hitting herself over and over, landing blow after blow which resulted in a pain that couldn't even compare to the fire that seemed to be enveloping her whole body. He continued to attempt reaching her but to no avail. All he could do was watch her scream and cry, seize and suffocate, without doing a thing. He wanted to hold her and love her and breathe for her and fix everything but he was trapped, condemned to watch his love die while all of his efforts failed._

Tom woke up feeling damp from his own sweat and tears and with his heart racing. Again and again, night after night, he suffered through these nightmares. The harshest part, he'd decided, was the initial relief he felt upon waking up. _It was only a nightmare. She's fine, you just had a bad dream._ He expected to roll over and find her there, ready and willing to soothe his fears. Instead, he found a vacant space he knew would never be filled again. It'd hardly been a full six months since it'd happened-he couldn't bear to say what _it_ was-and the pain hadn't even begun to subside. He kept himself together well enough when he was around the others but even then he was merely concealing the weighing down he felt in his heart hour after hour. There were times it'd let up, he'd get caught up in work or laugh at a joke or revel in a beautiful day, but then his heart would skip a beat and he'd remember. More often than not, after a particularly good or bad day, he'd want to run home and tell her, only to remember she wouldn't be there.

The nights were always the hardest. After restlessly tossing and turning, he often ended up in the nursery, holding the infant who bore the name of his beloved or even just watching her slow and steady breathing as she slept. She was such a good baby, and the only crying in the room came from the silent sobs that gripped him each night.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there! Since this is my first A/N this is going to be a bit of a long one.

First off, thanks to the few people who've read this, especially those who've reviewed. I'm a big weirdo about feedback, both positive and negative, so I haven't read any of the comments yet but I will soon once I stop being a baby. Thanks for taking the time to do so, even if you wrote how much you hated it!

I promise I'll stop being such a Debbie Downer soon...well, I suppose I always will be but I intend to include a LOT of recollections/memories that are nice and happy and not soul crushing like everything else.

It probably seems weird that I'm sticking to canon here considering Tom and Sybil's OTP status in my life and I'm sure a lot of people won't be happy about it since FF seems to be dominated by AU in this regard but in a way this is sort of acting as a way for me to cope with what's happened. I can't go back and make them let Sybil live but by doing this I get some control over how Tom thinks, reacts, and continues his life as well as getting to add in nice fluffy cute stuff.

In terms of things to come, here are a few things I think are worth noting:

1\. The ambiguous timeline frustrates the hell of out of me, as I'm sure it does many of you! I'm going to do my best to stick to what's given in the show and what I find online (mostly from the Downton wiki as well as some stuff from Tumblr because duh) and just try my best. I hate not knowing when exactly it was Sybbie was born, baptized, etc. and REALLY hate not knowing when Tom and Sybil were married.

2\. Related to timing: I know there's a lot of variation regarding Tom's age/the age difference between the two of them. I interpret Cora's noting that Matthew and Tom were "the same age" as a loose statement in that I think you could easily consider people born in the same decade or within a 5/10 year time span as being "the same age." Having there be a 10+ age gap between T&S just doesn't work for me and I don't buy it. It's hard enough for me to believe that my beautiful beloved Allen and Jessica (who I think is fab but will low-key be mad at for all of eternity for leaving) have 8 years between them and I just don't think it's the case for our fictional lovebirds. So, for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to assume Tom was born in 1890 and Sybil in 1895 (assuming she hadn't had her birthday yet in '20).

3\. I'm going to do some jumping around. I hope this happens less as I get further into it, but as I'm finding/defining what exactly my vision is things will probably be a little disjointed so bear with me. Considering I want to include Sybil pretty heavily, there'll be a lot of jumping around in that respect as the memories will come from all through the time they knew each other, but in terms of the actual plot moving forward I hope to hop around less as time goes on.

I really intended to have more to publish tonight but I put it off and now I'm tired so this is how it's going to be. Again, I so appreciate anyone taking the time to read this (looking at the traffic stats have amazed me, considering people from all over have looked at this!) and I hope you don't hate me too much for rubbing salt into our mutual wounds.

* * *

August 1920

Mam,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write, I've been putting it off because I don't want to admit the things I have to tell you are true. I wish more than anything I didn't have to write them and that you didn't have to read them. I know you are angry at me for what I've done and I'm sorry, more sorry than you'll ever know. I know I'll see you and Dublin again some day and I promise I'll try to make that happen one day. I know my being away has hurt you and I'm so sorry not only for that but that I'm about to hurt you worse. I wish I didn't have to, but you've always been my greatest confidant, not to mention you deserve to know these things.

You have a granddaughter now. You were right, like you always are...I don't understand how you seemed to know it was a girl all along, but you got it right. She's beautiful, I can't wait for you to meet her someday. Her not being born in Ireland will always be one of my biggest regrets and failures. I know I'm to blame, I was foolish. I know how important being there for the birth was to you. You don't owe me anything, but I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me for taking that away from you. She'll be baptized Catholic. I know there'll be push-back but so help me God it will happen. If for no other reason, I owe it to you to at least follow through on this. I wrote to Kieran a few days ago asking him to be the godfather. I know you're not well enough to travel, and though I of course with you could be here, part of me is thankful that you can't. I think seeing you would be too much. I don't know how I'll manage to hold myself together and seeing you, seeing a reminder of what used to be, would just hurt too bad. I told him other things, too, in the letter, and asked he not tell anyone, least of all you. I pray to God he hasn't, as much as it pains me, you have to hear it from me.

I could beat around the bush for ages but it won't do any good, it won't change the endpoint. I should just come out and say it. Oh Mam. It's so horrible I can hardly bear to write it.

Sybil died. The birth was a hard one but she made it through and then, just hours later, she was gone. I held her hand and I watched her die. They say it was eclampsia. Her family doctor knew, but her family chose to trust the so-called specialist instead. I don't fault them, I could have spoken up. I should have known something was wrong, she wasn't acting herself. But I let my nerves and fear overcome me and let everyone else call the shots. I shouldn't have acted a fool back home and gotten us stuck at Downton in the first place. Things could have been different, they should have been different. I watched her writhe and scream and struggle and suffocate. I see it every time I close my eyes. "Pain" doesn't begin to describe what I feel. This is all surreal in the worst way.

I know you cared for her quite a lot, and she certainly cared for you, and I'll forever be thankful for that. I can't get used to using the past tense when I speak of her; I don't know if I ever will. I'm not the man I was before it happened. I'm so sad, though that word fails on so many levels. I truly doubt I'll ever feel happy again. You always used to say how fiercely independent I was, and I do think I used to be, but not anymore. I don't know how to be without her. Even when all I could do was admire her from afar, everything I did was with her in mind. I could go on and on and on yet I know all of my words will fall short...she was my life. She is my life. I shouldn't say this to you, but Mam, if it weren't for that baby I don't think I could go on at all. I would be lying to you if I said I didn't consider it every day. This has wrecked me.

The baby. The poor thing. I named her Sybil. I know it seems masochistic, and it certainly feels that way, but it only seemed right. I know every time I look at her, every time I say her name, I'll be reminded of what has happened. But I believe it will also remind me of why I have to carry on.

I have virtually no recollection of her funeral. It was as if everything was happening around me but I wasn't really there. I couldn't hear, I couldn't see...all I could do was stare at her grave and feel nothing. A baby is without her mother, a man is without his whole heart, his whole world, a family is without their daughter and sister, and the world is without the brightest light it'd ever known.

When Da died all those years ago you were so strong. I suppose you had no choice, with a family to console and continue to raise and feed. I don't know how you did it, how you do it. The thought of another day passing without her by my side makes me sick to my stomach. They say time heals but so far it's just made things even worse. I'm certain I cried more those first three days than I have in my entire life. I feel so weak, so broken.

She was twenty-four, my darling girl. She was sweet and smart and none of us deserved her. I would do anything to bring her back. I would do anything to take her place. Part of my soul, of my heart, is has been taken from me and there's nothing I can do about it. There will forever be a void that will never be filled.

I'm so sorry, Mam. Sorry I can't return home, sorry you had to find out this way, sorry that I'll never be who I once was. I love you, I miss you and I hope that when we one day meet again that I'm not as lost as I am now.

Pray for me, please. Pray for your granddaughter. Pray for my darling Sybil.

Tom


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in anything new (that is assuming you aren't all congregating in the comments in order to sharpen your pitchforks) but here's something _aaaaaand_ it's not all total hum drum glum! Also, happy Easter!

* * *

August 1920

Planning the baptism proved to be exceedingly difficult, despite the fact Tom could sparsely argue he played much of a role. He was lucky he even had any say in naming his daughter but, though it wasn't easy, he insisted on having the child baptized Catholic. The last thing he wanted was to have to fight (with Sybil's family, no less) but he wasn't willing to compromise. There was push back from Lord Grantham, _of course_ , but he was lucky to find he had some assistance in the form of an appeal to Robert from Mary after Robert dared to invoke Sybil's name in an argument against him.

"Am I the only one to stand up for Sybil? What about her wishes?" Luckily, for Robert's sake if not his own, Mary spoke up before Tom had the chance to.

"Sybil would be happy for the child to be Catholic," she told him.

"How do you make that out?" he questioned as if it was all but implausible.

"Because she said so. To me. On the day she died." Tom's heart leapt at the thought of it, and the seemingly never-ending lump in his throat returned once again.

"Did she? Oh, God, did she really?" As glad as he was to know that after such a statement any naysayers would hardly have a leg to stand on, he was even happier to know that she'd said such a thing at all.

After dinner, as visitors began to leave and the residents prepared to turn in for the night, Tom managed to catch Mary alone before he retreated back to his lonely chamber. He called her name as he reached out to touch her arm. An innocent gesture, no doubt, but a meaningful one as he was coming to know that sustaining a relationship with Sybil's family would be important in maintaining her legacy and something she undoubtedly hoped for, even when she was alive. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was going to try. Mary turned around quickly to see who it was, though the Irish brogue that called her name couldn't belong to anyone else.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for your help back there. It means the world to me and I know it would to Sybil, too."

"Oh, please, it's nothing. I do love my father but it's far from his place to make this decision for you and impose his beliefs on you, let alone a baby that isn't his. He means well, I know he does, and this is hard for all of us but you must do what you believe is right. Most of us are behind you, truly." He would have been lying had he said he wasn't surprised by Mary's words as she was fiercely loyal to her father and typically English in her stiff upper lip mentality.

"I so appreciate that, Mary, I really do. I have to ask though...did she really tell you she wished for the baby to be Catholic? And on the day she...I mean, that day. You know." He tripped over his words, as he so often struggled to find the right things to say anymore. Mary smiled weakly, touched but slightly uncomfortable by Tom's palpable emotion and grief.

"She did. If I'm being honest with you-"

"Please, be honest," he cut in.

"Well, she was slightly nervous about having it here at Downton as she figured the baptism-and the birth, I suppose-would have taken place in Ireland and you wouldn't have had any trouble. I did tell her that the baby wouldn't _have_ to be Catholic if she didn't want since she'd certainly have a say just as you did. But she told me she didn't mind, that she believed in God and all the rest, all the details, didn't particularly matter to her. She said that she loved you and that this was what you wanted and that meant it was what she wanted as well." Tom swallowed hard, again struggling to keep his composure as was more common than not after losing Sybil.

"Was she lucid? Did she know what she was saying?" The thought of her in that bed on that day took him back to her crazed last moments which brought him immeasurable pain.

"She was, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you. Your support would mean a lot to her." She nodded politely and earnestly. At that point, Matthew emerged from the drawing room, hand outstretched, which she promptly took with a smile as they walked together to their room, leaving Tom alone with nothing but his memories to keep him company.

The nanny left Tom alone with the baby, with little Sybil as she would be Christened soon enough, as he did most every night before bed. She rarely cried and always looked to be content; Tom envied her beautiful ignorance of the terrible circumstances the two Bransons found themselves in. After spending time with the tiny girl he loved so much he retreated back into his room. He missed his beloved a little extra (if such as thing was even possible) after the revelation from Mary but fell asleep with a smile on his face in thinking about her.

May 1919

They'd scarcely been in Dublin a week when the couple decided to attend mass together for the first time. Tom's mother went daily as she always had and invited them numerous times but Tom insisted they'd wait and go together on Sunday just the two of them. It was a beautiful spring day when Sybil donned a new dress, one that was beautiful but far simpler than those she often wore back at Downton, and laced her fingers through those of her betrothed as they set off for the church. They each wore bright smiles that hadn't left either face since they arrived on the Emerald Isle.

"I don't speak a lick of Latin, I'll be hopelessly lost without your help." Her tone was light and playful but she subtly tightened her grip of his hand when she said it. She was nervous which he sensed and tried to ease.

"You'll get the hang of it quickly just like you do with everything else you take on. Just stand and kneel when everyone else does, you'll look like a pro."

"So there's a lot of moving? You know the services I'm accustomed to are dreadfully boring and lack calisthenics." She adjusted her hat and admired his basic but well-fitting suit. They looked like any other young couple in the city though they, of course, knew their story had been far more complex. If a passerby didn't know any better, they'd never guess that she came from Anglican nobility and that he'd worked for her (in more ways than one)-not to mention all the two had been through, both together and apart. Tom stopped just short of the church and turned to face Sybil directly.

"I appreciate you coming here, you know?"

"To church or to Ireland?" They grinned at each other.

"To both, of course, but I was referring to the church. You know things are changing here and there are a lot of people who wouldn't be happy to find out you're...well, you know, _not Catholic_. I just want you to know that none of that matters to me; you could worship the Greek gods for all I care, you're not getting rid of me that easy."

"I know I believe in God and I believe in you and me. I don't need anything else. I know that the church is an important part of your life and so I want it to be an important part of mine. The least I can do is keep an open mind; I wouldn't be a very good progressive woman if I didn't! And after all, if I'm going to become Mrs. Branson in a few weeks I ought to know what to expect if I attend church with you for the next forty or fifty years." His heart swelled just thinking of her being his wife; it was all a dream come true. His smile faded a bit as he grew serious, gazing into her eyes.

"You take everything, every new challenge or hurdle, in stride. You've given up so much for me and I swear on my life I'll do everything I can to ensure that it isn't for naught." They embraced, kissing and not caring who would see, just as bells began to ring signaling the impending start of mass.

"Shall we go in, milady?" He outstretched his arm and she received it with her own.

"We shall."


	4. Chapter 4

Late August 1920

He didn't read the letter from his mother until after the christening was over. It would be hard enough without the added pain of his mothers words. She was well-educated for a woman who'd left school when she was just fourteen-he'd inherited her love of words and books-and he expected her words would move him. He was glad he'd waited from the moment he saw her familiar script and felt the feelings he'd attempted to suppress all day begin to well up.

 _My dearest Tommy,_

 _I so regret I can't be with you and my granddaughter for this occasion; I hope your brother has passed on the sentiment._

 _Please don't ever apologize to me again for what happened before-I don't want us to speak of it again. I hate thinking of the way we left things...what I'm trying to say is what's happened has happened, we can't change it so there's no point in dwelling on it. You've never been immune to the revolutionary spirit around here and it got the best of you. You made a mistake that wasn't your first and I'm sure won't be your last._

 _As for the other news, I'm at quite a loss for words. I always wanted you to have the world and dreamed you'd achieve everything I never did. You'd be educated and make something of yourself, you'd make a good wage and give your children a better life than the one I gave you. My dream changed for you, though, as you got older. You're a smart boy, a smart man, but you have always lead with your heart over your brain, always. More than anything I wished you would find a woman who could truly make you happy. Sure you'd take pride in your work but you'd never be satisfied, even with all the money in the world, without someone to share it with. I had an image of her in my mind. You'd meet her at university. She wouldn't be some local slummy girl like your brothers always chased after, and you too for a time. She'd be fiery and smart and you'd marry and give me lots of grandchildren. I should have known even that would be too easy and predictable for you. I know I thought you foolish at first but even a blind man could have seen how wonderfully matched you and lovely Sybil were._

 _With my wish for your happiness I prayed you'd never have to go through the losses I did. My father, my sister, my mother, your father...I only wish I could take away your pain. I'll speak frankly with you now, my son. I suppose I did love your father. He was handsome and strong and her took care of us the best he could. But it is hard, remarkably hard, to love someone when you hardly know them and hardly know yourself. We married at eighteen, had six children in eleven years and then he died. I pray for his soul every day, and I do miss him, but never in our fifteen years do I think either of us ever loved the other nearly as much as you and Sybil loved each other. As sad as I am my desires for you to be spared such pain have failed, I know that she brought you more happiness in your short time together than I ever dreamed any woman could for your whole life._

 _You're the best of them all, my Tommy. You're the crowning achievement of my life. Though you are out of my sight you are never out of my mind and will pray for you and Sybil and the baby all the days of my life. I pray for the end of this war and hope that when that finally comes you'll be able to come home and introduce me to the namesake of one of the most spirited souls I ever had the pleasure of knowing._

 _I know you're more lapsed than I'd like and than you'd ever admit to me (but a mother knows) so I'll spare you scripture but there's a poem that was read at your father's wake and it has stuck with me for all of the years._

 _Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free!_  
 _I follow the plan God laid for me._  
 _I saw His face, I heard His call,_  
 _I took His hand and left it all…_

 _I could not stay another day,_  
 _To love, to laugh, to work or play;_  
 _Tasks left undone must stay that way._  
 _And if my parting has left a void,_  
 _Then fill it with remembered joy._

 _A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss…_  
 _Ah yes, these things I, too, shall miss._  
 _My life's been full, I've savoured much:_  
 _Good times, good friends, a loved-one's touch._

 _Perhaps my time seemed all too brief –_  
 _Don't shorten yours with undue grief._  
 _Be not burdened with tears of sorrow,_  
 _Enjoy the sunshine of the morrow._

 _All of my love,_

 _Your mam_

He'd wept as he read the letter, which came as no surprise to him, but he smiled, too, thinking not only of his love but of how his mothers opinion of Sybil had changed so much since the first time the exchanged letters about her. His heart ached when he thought of how much hope he felt not two years before with no idea it would all be ripped away from him so quickly.

Early 1919

 _My Dear Mam,_

 _Happy belated New Year. I know I haven't written in a while and have not done so as frequently as I should have but I have a good reason which I'm ready to share with you now. You commented on the lack of correspondence on my end in your last letter and you speculated on the reasoning behind it; as you so often are, you were right._

 _I'm in love. I suppose you knew that as I'd mentioned a certain girl a few times over the years I've been here but until now I've failed to express just how wonderful she is and just how much she means to me._

 _After all these years of one-sided longing she's finally agreed to marry me. I'm so happy I could burst, I swear it. Truthfully, I declared my intentions to her more than two years ago though I've loved her for even longer. She turned me down at first, but don't think poorly of her for that. Eventually she promised she'd think about it and give me an answer after the war's end. And so she has. I don't know what will happen next as her family won't approve but I'm not worried. She gave me the answer I hoped for and I know nothing will stand in our way._

 _As I said before I know I told you a bit about her but I must confess I've been holding back. I believe I've written of how she's interested in politics and became a nurse during the war. She's smart and kind and curious and headstrong and beautiful and she's mine. I can hardly believe it. What I haven't told you, though, is that she's well off. You likely don't recall (it's been so long I can't even recall if I mentioned it at all) my telling you about the family I work for upon my arrival. If I recall correctly and did in fact include that in my early letters I undoubtedly described their youngest daughter Sybil. That's her, mam. My Sybil._

 _I pray you won't be cross with me, I didn't intend for it to happen. I know how improper it must sound to you but things are different now, things are changing. Why should I be deprived of happiness just because I'm considered to be of a different class or caste than the one I love? Why should she? At the end of the day we're all people and my job shouldn't hold me back just as her title shouldn't either._

 _We haven't told them yet but I expect it will come as quite the shock, probably even more so than it is for you now. They know we are friendly with one another but all of our personal encounters have been in private, in secret. We haven't gotten to talk much about it yet but I hope we'll leave here and be married in Dublin. She's willing to leave everything behind and be with me. If you knew how remarkable she is it'd be as amazing to you as it is to me. I'm sending some writing to a few papers in the city in hopes of finding work before we tell her family. I want to show them that we're serious, that we're prepared and that I know I can provide for her. They'll never approve regardless but I want to do everything I can to make it as hard for them to oppose as possible._

 _I promise you'll hear from me more frequently from now on until I finally return home, hopefully sooner or later with my betrothed in tow. I hope you're happy for me and excited, though I expect you're far more practical than that and have likely already begun a list in your head of all the reasons I'm being foolish. I love you and your support and approval would mean the world to me, and to her, but this is happening with or without it. I'll be in touch soon, hopefully with more good news._

 _Your son,_

 _Tom_

 _Tommy,_

 _It's good to know you haven't completely lost your wits as you guessed right that I'd think you're being foolish._

 _What on earth are you thinking?_

 _You're so much smarter than this, my boy. I love you and your happiness is very important to me but I can assure you this is no way to get it. Are you prepared for all of the obstacles that stand in your way? Are you ready to be judged for the rest of your life, whether you deserve it or not, and to have this girl be subject to the same? As much as I hate to invoke this argument as you know I wish you'd stay out of the trouble that always seems to be brewing here, are you really telling me that bleeding heart Irishman Tom Branson wants to marry a Protestant English lady? You've got to admit, it's laughable! She's a young girl rebelling against her family by proposing the most ridiculous affront to them possible and you're a young man caught up in his feelings and thinking with something other than his brain._

 _You are a grown man and entitled to make your own decisions but don't say I haven't warned you. If you move forward with this frivolity, which I hope that you don't on account of coming to your senses, I will agree to meet the girl but I do not agree to approve of what you're doing or give you my blessing. But let's hope it doesn't come to that._

 _Do your poor old mother a favor and think about what you're doing. Think about it good and hard and if you still want to move forward I've got no authority to stop you. I don't agree with it, and don't know I ever will should you go through with it, but I will love you no matter what._

 _I'll be praying that you make the right decision._


End file.
